Between a Wild Time and a Flat Line
by agent iz hyper
Summary: Hunters can have fun too. And since these young hunters are the Winchester brothers, well, what was fun without a bit of spice and chaos? / Warning: This story contains cross-dressing, a particularly overly smug Deano, embarrassed!Sammy, randomness and excessive kicking ass. / Sammy's 16, Dean's 20. / This one's for Renae! xP
1. Cause I keep runnin'

**Between a Wild Time and a Flat Line**

Hunters can have fun too. And since these young hunters are the Winchester brothers, well, what was fun without a bit of spice and chaos?

**Be warned**. This story contains cross-dressing, a particularly overly smug Deano, embarrassed!Sammy (_or should that be Samantha?_), randomness and excessive kicking ass. Don't get too overwhelmed now.

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**Title** is from Adam Lambert's 'If I Had You' – "There's a thin line between a wild time and a flat line..." Renaaaaaeeeee ~ that one's for you. :P

**A/N:** Here we go. xD FIRST OFF. This is a **gift-fic for mah bestie, Renae. x)** She gave me this prompt, right. A pretty crack-y one, but I think I'll pull it off as at least semi-believable. :P SO. Sam-girls – don't hate me for this. IT WAS HER IDEA! *wide eyes* And, and Dean's! 's all their fault. I merely transferred the story into writing... *pats Sammy on the head* Don't worry Sammy, you're very awesome. And manly. Extremely manly. Very. Macho. *solemn nod*

So, um. I think I've given fair warning. Facepalms galore. So just... don't... ask.. how things happen. And stuff. All will be explained. xD I hope.

Oh yes. HEY REI – I divided it up. So much funner than just a one-shot. xD Plus I had this part done and I was all, "Y'know what, I'm gunna post this up!" Or else you'll probably think I'm never gunna get it done BUT I GOT THIS DONE. Will get to the next bit soon... *snicker* Oh Sammy... I pity you right now, I really do...

ALRIGHTY. READ ON. xD

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Sam Winchester could safely say he had the guts to take on whatever came his way. Maybe he wasn't exactly fearless, or – like Dean – fearlessly _reckless_ sometimes, but he could handle more things than the average 16-year-old.

His pride, though? Well, he _was_ a Winchester, which meant blows to his pride were not taken lightly.

Which, _in turn_, meant that agreeing to a dare from his brother was something he did before he could stop and consider the possible consequences of what would happen. To be fair, though, he _had_ thought he'd have a fair chance at winning, thus making Dean have to take on _his_ dare instead.

But as such, life wasn't fair - and through some decidedly _un_fair mistakes on his part...

"I can't believe you missed that, man! It was right _there_," crowed Dean, grinning all over his stupid face. Sam huffed and jabbed him with his pool cue stick.

"Yeah, but your stupid 4-ball was in the way," he muttered. He wasn't a sore loser, he really wasn't. It was just that, thanks to his aforementioned pride, losing two games out of the three against his brother meant he had to take on whatever dare Dean had in mind.

It was a _pride_ thing.

"And dude, your _face_, right then?" Dean snickered, setting his own cue stick on the table and leaning on the wall next to it. He shot his brother a faux-hurt look. "You'd think I was gonna make you do something _unspeakably horrible_ for your dare."

"You? Horrible?" Sam scoffed. "Nah, man... I think _fucking ridiculous_ would sum up your dares a bit better."

"You wound me, little brother." Dean put a hand over his chest, shaking his head sadly. "I don't know what I could've done to make you think that, but I assure you, it was all in the name of good fun." He waved away Sam's skeptical snort. "You need your definitions re-evaluated, so I'm not talking about what _you_ classify as fun."

"Dean, you dared me to sing at a restaurant-"

"It was a good song!"

"In front of _everyone_."

"Aw, Sammy." Dean grinned at him knowingly. "You're not still cut up 'cause what's-her-name, Juliet, saw? Oh, you poor Romeo."

"It's _Julia_," Sam corrected, rolling his eyes. "Dean. You made me serenade that old waitress who had a grudge against the world."

"Well, it must've made her day."

"No... No, Dean, it really didn't. She threatened to make us - me - pay for holding her up _and_ threw us out before we got our dinner and told us not to go back there."

This time his brother looked wistfully regretful. "Yeah. Damn, that part sucked. And they had awesome pie, too." He threw Sam a begrudging look. "Well, maybe if you could actually _sing_, she wouldn't have. You'd think years of being around me, you'd have learnt a few tricks. What am I gunna do with ya, Sammy?"

Sam stared at his brother with a bored look, waiting for the theatrics to finish. "You done yet?"

Dean shot him a look. "Jeez, lighten up Grouchy Pants, we haven't even _started_." He let an evil grin slowly uncurl on his face.

It immediately set off blazing alarms in his brother's mind. Sam backed away a step, eyeing the other Winchester warily. "Why do I get the feeling that whatever you've got in mind is going to make all your other dares combined look like a freaking jog at the beach? I'm not gonna like this..."

"My dares are _awesome_. It's not my fault you don't appreciate my amazing comedic skills, little brother." Dean smirked at him. He set his cue stick aside and started heading out of the motel games' room, glancing back to make sure Sam was behind him.

"Not my fault your so-called skills are a catastrophe just waiting to explode," said Sam in an annoyed tone. He narrowed his eyes when he realised his brother was going to the car instead of their room. "Where are you going?"

"We," Dean grinned at him over the Impala's hood, "are getting you new clothes."

Sam stared at him, making the older Winchester pause before opening his door and cock an eyebrow his direction.

"Take a picture, Sammy, it'll last longer."

"Why exactly do I need new clothes? What's wrong with my clothes? Dean, what the hell are you thinking?" No, Sam was not panicking. He was just being wary. Extremely cautious. One could never be too careful when their idiot of a brother was wearing that sort of smirk.

"Well," Dean said casually, crossing his arms on top of the black hood and leaning on it. "What I'm thinkin' is – we're running low on cash, right?"

"Yeah?" said Sam slowly, mind pausing at the sudden random subject shift and failing to link it to the situation.

"So. We're heading to the bar tonight," his big brother continued, still wearing that infuriating _I'm-enjoying-this-too-much_ look. "They've got this sort of pool comp going on. Double the cash if you win."

Sam blinked, his confusion evident. "I still don't see what..."

"The guys there would be all the hot-shots of the town, right?" Dean grinned at him. He looked too pleased by what he was going to say for Sam's liking. "They wouldn't be expecting anyone like us to go up against them and win."

"So... what, you want me to hustle pool against them?" That sounded a bit too easy.

"Yahtzee."

Make that _a lot_ too easy.

"What's the catch?" Sam asked cautiously.

"Oh, yeah." Dean waved a hand nonchalantly. "Here's the thing – these guys would underestimate you so much more if they thought you were a chick."

Sam's mind froze. His mouth fell open silently as he gaped at his brother, trying to figure out _in what fucking world did this sound like a good idea?_

"No. _No way_," Sam refused adamantly, crossing his arms and glaring at him.

The jerk just smirked back lazily. "Hey, you did agree," he shrugged.

"But that's 'cause- you – _dammit_," Sam cursed in frustration, throwing his hands up in defeat. "You suck," he grumbled.

Dean's smirk grew into a shit-eating grin. "That the best you can do, Sammy? Or, should I say-" he shot Sam a gleefully sadistic smirk as he pulled his door open; "_Samantha_."

Sam glowered daggers at him as Dean's laughter followed him into the car.

_Catastrophe_ didn't even begin to cover this.

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**A/N:** :D That's just setting the story up. Next chapter... things get kinda hot. ;)

...Renae, mate, you're paying for the mental scarring writing the next bit will give me. xD

REEEEVIEW! (_Rei that means you too. Review. Then call to spaz. xD Seriously._) What do _you_ think is gunna happen? :P Oh yeah, almost forgot – this takes place like almost right after my one-shot called _Sneaky Pete_ – it works for their ages and it was sort of part of Rei's prompt thingy. She wanted that "first time that Dean used the gun was to save his little brother's life" thing to be in this story, plus the whole hustling pool thing. So yeah.

Um, don't have much to say. xP Reviews are love. Sammy is awesome. Dean is kickass.

That is all. *salutes*

Laters~

iz.


	2. It's a struggle

**Between a Wild Time and a Flat Line**

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**A/N:** *waves at everyone* *and at Renae* Hi. So. Yeah. Uh. This... is... I think, borderline crack. *stares worriedly at the... thing I'm calling a chapter* I should, uh, warn you – that first half? Written right after watching videos after videos of Batman cartoons with my nephews. So. Don't... blame me...

Okay. You know what? Just... read it. And then, um, yeah. I'll... see you at the bottom.

Aaand btw – **Rei**: no chick-Sammy here either, but I couldn't find a way to write that in yet. xP So yes. Go ahead and... um, read... *hides*

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**CHAPTER 2**

"You're such a freak," Sam muttered to his brother as he browsed through a rack of flashy clothing. Flashy _girls'_ clothing.

Dean didn't even miss a beat. "I'm not the one growing a pair of boobs tonight, Sammy."

Sam felt his cheeks heat up from frustrated embarrassment and looked around, noting thankfully that while the shop was pretty crowded, everyone was too busy with their own shopping and chatting to pay any notice to the two males sifting through female clothes.

Everyone, that is... except the very eccentric redheaded shopkeeper who bounded up to them with a too-cheery smile and a spring in his step. Sam subconsciously took a step so he was behind his brother and eyed him warily – with the green-rimmed sunglasses (yes, _indoors_) and suit, and that too-much-teeth grin, he half-expected the man to burst out with "Riddle me this!"

"Good evening, sir!" the Jim Carrey lookalike practically chirped in a God-awful salesman tone. "How can I help you? Looking for anything in particular? As you can see-" he waved an arm extravagantly at the rack of clothes while both brothers simply stared. "Everything here is 40% off and if you look over there, we have a 'Buy One Get One Half-Price' deal-"

"That's, uh, fascinating," Dean interrupted with a look caught halfway between amusement and creeped-out-ness. He shook his head then glanced back at Sam with a grin as he replied. "But we're good, thanks. Just looking for some clothes for my, uh, sister."

"Ah, I see. Birthday present?" The guy seemed too interested in the topic. Sam huffed quietly – he just wanted to get this over and done with.

Dean shrugged. "Not exactly. Just wanted to make sure I found something... suitable." His lips quirked up in a smirk.

Sam fumed silently in the background.

When the other man seemed ready to pounce onto helpful pointers, Dean added hastily, "So I'll just go... get it now."

Not-Carrey nodded cheerily, not looking put out at all at the obvious dismissal and added brightly, "Well then, if you need anything, I'm more than glad to help! Happy shopping!" And with one last merry beam at Sam which freaked him out to no end, the man bounced away, latching onto the next available customer.

The brothers looked at each other, and burst into barely-controlled laughter.

"Dude- what the _hell_?" Dean managed to choke out.

Sam shook his head, trying to contain his chuckling. "That was just..."

"Man, I shoulda just let him pick out your outfit." Dean's tone of amusement changed to one of cheekiness and he let another smirk out at his brother's wide-eyed look of horror.

"You _wouldn't_," said Sam, his voice deadly.

The smirk grew into a smug grin. "I'm makin' you cross-dress, dude. You _really_ think I wouldn't?" Dean's green eyes sparked with the mischief of a challenge.

Sam glowered at him. "I will goddamn _end_ you."

Dean shrugged casually and turned back to the clothes. "'Course you will," he agreed amiably, in that tone reserved for brothers who had nothing better to do than annoy the crap out of their siblings. "Eh. Can't say it's not tempting, but I think I just found the right thing..."

Sam's eyes narrowed in dread and suspicion as he sidled closer and peered over his brother's shoulder at the item of clothing.

The kick he aimed at Dean's shin guaranteed beautifully colourful bruising. The not-so-similarly colourful loud curses that spilled from Dean's mouth almost guaranteed them getting kicked out of the store. As it was, all it ended up garnering was a scowling older brother, a not-exactly-satisfied little brother, and the return of one very excited salesman.

"Hello again, gentlemen!" he beamed, adjusting his sunglasses in probably what was supposed to be a suave move. Sam felt like finding a nice brick wall and slamming his head against it. "I hope you're having no difficulties!"

Dean gingerly lowering his foot to the floor again then aimed another dirty look at Sam. Which, predictably, was ignored. "Ah, no. No, we're good." His irritation seemed to fade instantly to be replaced by the ever-present smugness that Sam loathed. Especially when it was aimed at him. "Think I've found just the thing, actually."

"Oh? Well, I am absolutely glad to hear that!" The shopkeeper bobbed his head enthusiastically, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. He shifted his smile from Dean to Sam, who automatically took a wary step back. "Have a _lovely_ day, and I truly hope to see you again!"

The brothers watched in a sort of dumbstruck silence as he pounced on the next closest victim- uh, shopper, that is. Sam blinked before turning to his brother slowly, more than a little bit creeped out. "Uh, Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we not come back here? Like, ever again?"

Dean shook his head and surveyed his little brother. "Sounds good," he agreed, baffled look still in place. He made to leave, then stopped, turned back, grabbed the clothes, and continued. Sam made a face at his brother's back before following, resigned trudge firmly in place. As he waited for Dean to pay and then left the store, the uncomfortable tingle of watching eyes made the hair at the back of his neck rise. Sam frowned and paused at the doorway, chancing a glance back. His eyes caught onto a certain pair of sunglasses turned his way and accompanied by that same wide creepy grin. He held the gaze, unable to stop the rising feeling of unease.

"Sam! Come on!"

Dean's voice and the beep of the Impala startled Sam to look away, and when he stared back again, he could clearly identify the man helping out another customer as if nothing had happened. He shook his head and made his way on to the Impala, sliding into the passenger seat.

"About time, princess," Dean grunted, driving off.

Sam just rolled his eyes. He eyed the bag sitting oh-so-innocently on the seat between them and wrestled with the urge to get it and throw it out the window. As if hearing his thoughts (which, let's face it, he might as well be able to) Dean smirked, grabbed the bag and reached back to put it behind them on the back seat. "Uh-uh, Sammy-boy. You're going through with this."

Sam groaned and dropped his head onto the window wearily, watching the streets go by. "How the hell exactly am I supposed to hustle in _that_, anyway, genius?"

"Aw, c'mon, dude, it's not that hard." Dean shot him a wicked grin. "Y'know, I _was_ considering heels-"

That certainly had Sam shooting straight up in his seat to glower deadly poison-laced daggers at his brother. "Don't – you – _fucking – dare_."

"Chill, I won't."

There was a 'but' there. Dreadfully, Sam prompted, "But...?"

Dean's face was a bit too serious and contemplating for this sort of thing. "Well, you can't go in there empty-handed, and I can't imagine trying to hide a gun in that thing." He waved a hand back in the general direction of the bag containing Sam's... _outfit_. "So..." He fell silent, fingers tapping thoughtfully on the steering wheel.

'_Someone shoot me now_', Sam thought morosely as he watched his big brother's eyes light up as that dreaded light bulb made a distinct _ching!_ sound. "Whatever you're thinking, _no_."

Dean ignored him. "You need to be equipped. And I've got a few ideas," he mused. "I mean, I'll have my Glock and silver knife and all that, but-"

"Wait." Sam held up his hands to stop him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Why are we arming ourselves? Is there something here? I thought Dad left us here so he could take care of the shifter a couple towns over."

Dean cut his eyes between Sam and the road. He looked like he wasn't going to say anything, but eventually settled with, "Gotta be cautious, man. You know that."

"But, Dean, is there something here that-"

"You know what you need? A handbag." Dean declared, acting as if Sam hadn't spoken.

His little brother started, then gaped at him. "Are you serious? I'm not lugging around-"

"Hey," Dean shrugged nonchalantly, the jerk. "If you gotta act the part, you gotta look the part. Besides," he shot a smug smirk over at Sam. "Where else you gonna hide your arsenal of girly weapons?"

"Dean?" Sam felt lost, confused, and extremely wary. So, pretty much the same way he always felt when his oh-so-wise big brother was in one of his _great-friggin'-idea_ moods. "What... weapons are you talking about?" He was _almost_ scared to ask, but if Sam was anything, it was curious. Even if this time it did threaten to squash any peace of mind he had left at this point.

Dean waggled his eyebrows, looking too amused and pleased at himself for whatever was brewing in that mind of his. "What do you think of holy water perfume and mini-salt-shaker disguised as lipstick? To name a couple?"

...Yeah. Peace of mind? What was that again?

* * *

**A/N: **what the hell did i just write. *glances at faces covered with WTF expressions* I did warn you. I think.

Well. Um. There is... A new character at least... So. *waves hands in a somewhat pathetic attempt at dramatics* Foreshadowing...?

*crickets chirp*

No? Okay...

*drops head on desk* I don't even know anymore. _Stop looking at me like that_. It's hot and really hot and stiflingly boilingly hot and _there's no air cuz it's that stifling_ I feel like I'm breathing in... well. Stale air. Yeah. And that's with my veranda door wide open. *glares outside* Cruel weather. So hot. I can't think anymore asnajdhaad.  
Oh. Wait. Yeah. I got an idea. Ima go... downstairs... where there's an amazing _air __conditioner_ instead of suffocating to death slowly in mah room. *muses* I am smart.

... Oh yes. Thanks to everyone who actually read the first chapter and reviewed xD Cheers, mates. And kudos for the alerts and shit too. *nods* 's cool stuff. I just, uh, hope this didn't.. kill things... um, hope it made you... laugh, at least? *blinks innocently*

Ima shush now. And. Yeah. *glances around* oh crap... yeah... i gotta go and, uh, get back to that studying-for-the-exam-I-have-tomorrow that I was so happily procrastinating on.

Yo Renae. Hope you liked that xD Uh, probably most definitely not like anything you had in mind, but meh. The muse goes where the muse goes. I ain't steering, just copying down directions. *nods* Would call ya buuuut I doubt I'm allowed near the phone right now considering I spent the better half of yesterday watching tv instead of studying. *sheepish* So yeah. I deserve an awesome review after killing mah melted brain to type this up for you. *serious look* And then! I can get started on _actual Samantha/Sammy stuff _yes about time. Shush. Too much of a good thing is bad for you.

My ANs are too effing long. -.-

_Ciao_, peoples. Leave me a review – whether it's to say this was hilarious or crappy, I don't really care. Well. I might. Maybe. If I feel like it. But still. Review? Yeah. Ta~

Iz.


	3. I'm here for your entertainment

**Between a Wild Time and a Flat Line**

**A/N:** *shrugs* This was mostly done so I thought, why the hell not. I think Sammy would appreciate me getting this thing over and done with already instead of prolonging his torture. *pats his head sympathetically* I feel your pain, buddy, I had to write it. But seriously... try... imagining... Sam in a dress and then describing him from a _guy's_ point of view. *shudders* My _mind_. Remind me again why I'm doing this... Oh yeah. Anywho! Read on; there be brotherly banter here and then a short bar scene just building up to the next chapter. Also a teensy bit of foreshadowing 'cause really this does have a plot. xP *waves hand* Off you go~

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**CHAPTER 3**

The next couple of hours were spent 'preparing' the younger Winchester – who was wishing the ground would just open up and swallow him whole and leave him there in peace until this day was over. He had never wished he could wipe the too-amused smirk off his brother's face more than he did now.

Said brother had used his creative genius (his words) to derive various 'defensive weapons in disguise' for his kid brother. Sam was convinced there _was_ something here that Dean wasn't telling him about, despite Dean's casual denials of the claim. But he let the matter drop for now because if it was serious then surely he'd be in the know by now, and they'd be hunting it or something instead of heading for a bar.

Which brought him back to the matter at hand, and Sam glared moodily out the car's windscreen.

"I can't believe you're making me do this," he grumbled. He shot yet another deadly glare at his smirking brother. He was uncomfortable, pissed, and yeah, more than a little embarrassed.

"Just remember Sammy - it's for a good cause," said Dean, ruffling the younger boy's hair. Sam shook him away, bangs flying and falling into his eyes.

"Dean, it's for your entertainment!"

Dean acted wounded. "Sammy, it's all for our survival! We need the money, and what better way to earn it than hustling pool? _And_," he added loudly when Sam opened his mouth to interrupt, "All those idiot guys would totally underestimate a chick, which means _we_ will win their cash using the undeniable skill you picked up from your awesome big bro, and everyone goes home happy," he concluded with a grin.

"Except for the guys who lose the game," Sam reminded him. "And whoever you decide to piss off this time. And me." He paused, considering that while Dean huffed and muttered, "Spoilsport."

"I still don't like this," Sam declared after a couple more minutes of silent driving - silent except for the quiet radio in the background.

"Shocker," said Dean, lips quirked in another smirk. "And here I was thinkin' you were totally up for it."

Sam rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to fix his... his... the extremely feminie piece of clothing that hsi brother had thrust him in. Did he mention he was _really_ uncomfortable? "Jerk."

"Bitch," Dean countered easily, turning up the music. He shot his brother a light grin. "Loosen up Samantha, it'll be fun. Seriously."

"Of course it will," Sam said drily. "Because when _isn't_ cross-dressing as a chick for a night _fun_? And stop calling me that."

"It's your name," Dean shrugged. He really was enjoying this too much. "And you need to girl-ify yourself up some more, man. Though your voice _is_ so soft, I suppose it doesn't really matter," he mused as an afterthought.

Sam just punched him in response. Then settled back in the passenger seat as the small-town local pool bar came into view around the corner. He was _not_ jittery (this is Sam Winchester we're talking about - the strong, smart hunter who took after his badass brother. He didn't _do_ jittery), but he couldn't deny the long-suffering feeling of dread that settled over him.

This night so wasn't going to end well.

And that was _without_ even accounting for the fact that he had to endure it all knowing that Dean was so definitely going to be watching from the sidelines practically splitting his sides from laughter.

"Dean?"

"Yes, little sister?"

"This is an awful idea, and I hate you very much for it, and I hope Karma sics some love-struck wrinkly old granny on you. Or ten." Sam paused. That mental image alone - containing a truly horrified and panicked brother, of course - might just be enough to get him through... at least the first ten minutes of the night. "Just thought I'd let you know, in the very possible case that I don't make it out of this alive," he added casually.

Dean just chuckled, the jerk. "Who ever said you aren't an adorable ray of sunshine and rainbows? I almost feel bad for the poor bastard who'll have to endure your sarcastic wit for a whole game. Y'know, if he wasn't so generously giving us his money for it."

Sam cracked a smile against his will and shook his head. God knows how, but Dean just never failed to do that.

"Right. Let's get this show on the road."

**-x-x-x-**

"Say, that's a sweet ride," Ian the bartender noted to Liz as they passed around shots, nodding out the somewhat grainy window beside the front door.

His co-worker looked up in time to see the door opening and the two occupants of aforementioned car stepped in. Her eyes lit up at the sight of the male, a confident young man with green eyes that swept around the inside of the bar and an easy handsome grin that had more than one pair of eyes turning to stare as he swaggered up to the stools lined up before the bar like he'd been there a hundred times before.

Liz went to serve him straight away, flirty smile in place, and Ian snorted his amusement. He glanced up again at the second arrival, who stuck to the guy, and his eyebrows rose slightly as he took the pretty brunette in, impressed. She was younger than the male by maybe a couple of years – didn't look any older than 19, but it was hard to tell by her height. Hazel cat-like eyes narrowed at her companion and red lips twisted in annoyance. She was wearing a glittering purple mini-dress that hugged her modest curves, with a short black cardigan and stockings. Her light brown hair framed her face in a short cut, giving her a cute and innocent look that was marred slightly by the irritated scowl aimed at the guy she'd come with.

Ian sidled up to the counter. "Hey there, darlin'," he drawled. "Anything I can getcha?"

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. Frowning slightly, Ian stuck around, watching as she whacked the man lightly with her purse to get his attention away from a flirting Liz. He glanced at her, unperturbed, though he looked like he was trying not to laugh for some reason. "What?"

"_Dean_," she hissed, her voice soft but getting across her impatience. "What _exactly_ am I supposed to do?"

"Oh yeah." Dean sat back, looking around until his eyes landed on the pool table and he grinned. "There ya go, Sammy. Just barge in like you own the place and join the game," he shrugged at 'Sammy's incredulous look before turning to find Ian still standing there and looking extremely confused. "Hey, mind getting us a couple shots?"

Ian nodded mutely and passed along the glasses, filling them both, before clearing his throat and asking doubtfully, "So, uh, she's going to... challenge _those_ guys-" he nodded over at the cocky men huddled around the pool table; "at their competition?"

"Yep," Dean grinned, not looking a bit unsure.

Blinking, he cocked an eyebrow at the quiet girl. She glared at him, daring him to say anything. "Right. You any good? It's... Sammy, isn't it?"

She scowled again, gritted out "Sam-" before her friend jumped in with a too enthusiastic, "Samantha, actually." He added in an aside to Ian, "Hates being called Sammy, _she_ does." He smirked over at her, then yelped as she kicked him in the shin.

Ian watched on, completely baffled. Might be time to see if anyone else needed anything. "Okay then. Good luck," he muttered before striding away, shaking his head.

Behind him, Dean burst out laughing.

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**A/N:** Okay. *sighs in relief* Got that bit done. Anyone got a vat of acid handy I wouldn't mind dunking my head into it now, no jk it wasn't _that_ bad... *wrinkles nose* No, okay, it sort of was, because _seriously_. *shakes head and tries not to crack up again. mental image. omg.*

Um, yeah. Review? xD I dunno what _about_, but... yeaah. Funny? Not? Go ahead- *pokes review box*

This was just a reliever off writing serious stuff for my other fic. Jeez the mood change.

(Psst, oy **renae** – i _think_ might do some kittychesters after this, *blinks* in the mood for kitty-bro fluffiness. :P And i still got your old prompts to work with. *pokes it*)

'kays, 'tis all from moi. *waves* Laters~!

-izzy.


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